


Little Cosmos

by susiephalange



Category: Guardians of the Galaxy (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Angst, F/M, Female Reader, Fix-It, Fluff, Movie: Guardians of the Galaxy Vol. 2, Parent Yondu Udonta, Reader centric, Spoilers, Time Travel
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-11
Updated: 2017-06-11
Packaged: 2018-11-12 19:31:56
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,217
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11168604
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/susiephalange/pseuds/susiephalange
Summary: Sometimes, to fix the hurt, you need a little miracle. Or perhaps, a stray sorcerer supreme.





	Little Cosmos

**Author's Note:**

> This was a request from my wattpad!

It was the hollow feeling in your chest that made it so much worse. But it couldn’t be worse, not like it was on Kraglin, or Peter. But everyone standing around, everyone flying back to their homes, everyone whispering their condolences seemed to know that you were the one who knew Yondu the most.

He was always signing himself up for things bigger than himself. That was your Yondu - the man whose whistle was a harbinger of death, who led a faction of space pirates and plundered the galaxies for treasures...the man who fell for you. You'd say it was a hard thing to do, but your husband sure insisted that it wasn't. He wasn't a man of pretty words, but he'd wax poetic about you, to you, with you whenever he could, when you were alone. God, he wasn’t a wordsmith, and butchered every word that passed through those lips, but they were words which made you feel chills, heart melt.

It was like he was two people; the rough ‘n tumble star cowboy, and the love-struck tragical blue man. He'd tell you every day that he loved you. _Without fail_. He’d never forget. Over coffee, between shifts, over the Comms unit. Before bed, in between sentences, in fire-fight. It drove Peter mad over the years - the young boy wasn't fond of displays of affection, but if he was on Yondu's ship, and Yondu was captain, he'd be quiet when the captain would kiss his wife. You’d let him protest, though. He was entitled to it.

Whenever you could, you'd take Peter out away from the crew onto new planets and explore the cities, never forcing him to do anything that he wasn't comfortable with, like stealing, or lying like your husband would tech him. No. To you, the young boy was almost like your own, and sometimes when you were tired, or the light was funny, you'd see him as your own child. Yondu even saw it sometimes. But Peter never called you  _mother_ and did his damnedest to rebel against Yondu, and that was that. The young man had troubles beyond your abilities as the daughter of a laundromat servicer back on Terran. You weren’t a shrink, and you weren’t a magician. But you loved your boys. With all your heart.

But that didn't mean you didn't try. Stars, you tried your best. You had been a teenager too, at some time ago (it felt like ages at times) and you felt his pain. And even though he never said anything, you suspected that Peter thought of you as a sort of guardian. An angel on his shoulder to guide him. It felt nice to be a mother. It had been something that was expected of you, from Earth – an assurance that by your gender you'd marry, you'd birth heirs to your father's business, you'd die surrounded by family.

Yondu had died with Peter. He’d always had trouble with getting words out right, yes, but always to Peter. Never found the right time to tell him what he felt about being like the young boy’s own father. But he’d died with Peter. And like all those pretty fairy stories where the children go out exploring with their fantasies and fantastic adventures led by their fathers, you had been left home, out of the fuss, unknowing to the fact that your husband had been dead. Kraglin had sent word, and you’d spaced-jumped as fast as you could to be there.

It made the feeling below your chest so, so much worse.

Sure, you were Peter’s sort-of-mother, but the lackadaisical dream of bearing offspring was long-lost back on Terran. Or, so it seemed. It wasn't until the pair of you were older, and Peter was a man grown, near eight months ago that you realised that you had missed a cycle in your monthlies. Two. Because you knew nothing of the fertility and workings of Yondu's race, you had no idea that you  _could_  be pregnant, let alone, that Yondu and you could…together. Your body couldn't deny the evidence.

You were to be a mother again.

Yondu had barely a moment spare, then, you remember; he was busy rushing around the ship, trying his best to man the thing himself, with few crew, most on shore leave. He was trying to get the ship ready for an upcoming quest, gosh, he was always signing himself up for trouble, and you loved him despite that reckless trait.

Stars, sometimes you loved him for it.

“I'm pregnant, Yondu,” you shout over the clanging and banging going on inside the hallway he'd ambled off into. The banging and clanging stopped. You could hear a thump of steps, and Yondu was back, looking at you. “I - I'm producing offspring? Is that a thing?”

His eyes had been wide, mouth agape. “You're what?” He whispers.

You had cleared your throat at that, “Pregnant. With child. Um, bearing fruit?" You try and think of more synonyms. You'd never talked about kids to one another, never in your years married to each other. It just hadn't come up at all, with no need at all. You had raced around the stars together, flying through constellations. Populating didn’t make the cut when adventuring was on the table. “Hey, baby, say something.”

" _Pregnant_ ," He had repeated the word, slowly taking a step toward you, then two more. "…is that what you Terran's call it when you're knocked up?"

You nod, biting back your laugh, “We're having a baby, Yondu. Well, that's what my body says. I don't think there are any medical professionals out here in the galaxy who know much about Terran biology, let alone hybrid genes... you prattle off, trying to distract him from the facts. "I'm - I'm not as young as I used to be."

He shakes his head, and slowly, puts his hands upon the sides of your shoulders. "You sure as hell don't look it, sweetheart.”

Peter moves to your side, and looking to him, you bury your head in the crook of his neck. He’d grown up so much, and it had happened it what seemed like a blink of an eye. You can remember the days as a young woman, the same age as he is, before you were in space. You had run away from home, and ended up somewhere in New Mexico near a small-town Puente Antiguo. Running from your fate to grow old and marry the man you sat next to all your school years, fate to be stuck in a hundred-year-old rut that your bloodline had been stuck in too, too long. You had been abducted and taken into outer space, and gladly so. You found Yondu, and he found you.

_"You sure as hell don't look it, sweetheart.”_

“Ma?” Peter murmured, and gazing up, you realise your eyes are wet, and not just from the funeral that had just happened. “Are you going to be okay?”

Before you can explain the new tears, or to Peter that he’s never called you _ma_ before, there’s a pain in your belly, and there’s a tightening in your chest, and running down your leg, is liquid that had come from within you. It felt just like the old movies you used to watch, with the classic same-old cliché of the pregnant lady giving birth at the worst possible time.

“What –,” Peter sees your trousers, eyes wide. “It’s time?”

A hand on your midsection, you nod. The movies had always showed the women in pain, but you could never fathom it to be just like this. Wincing, you gasp, and almost double over. “I guess junior here’s upset they’re late to meet Papa,” you joke, and blowing hard, you motion to the med bay in the Ravager ship. “Get Kraglin. And a nurse droid.”

* * *

 

Thirteen hours later, and you are holding a bundle of joy that came screaming into the world. Her hair is tight, and curly, as dark a blue as her skin is. But those eyes, they’re your eyes, and looking at your child, you can see every part of Yondu and yourself in her. She’s beautiful.

Your little Cassiopeia.

She is quiet now, sucking upon your finger. Peter looks like he has truly seen magic, and his Guardians of the Galaxy stand by the door, a safe distance from the newborn. Though you know Drax had a daughter of his own, you don’t trust the weapons experts and ex-assassins near your hours-old child.

But then, everything stills, like time is frozen. Frowning, you see you, and your daughter, you are not kept still, but as you see this, you also notice the wall before you open, and a man with facial hair stepping through. He wears strange clothes, and his hands glow, but you know in your bones that this man is from Earth.

“Are you _______ Udonta?” He asks. “Born _______ _______?” You nod, mutely, almost confused as to why he is there. Is he a magician? Is this a trick of your mind? What kind of trick would make you see a man walk through the walls of the spacecraft the day your husband died? “I meant to traverse to…I suppose now I am here, I can take you to your husband.”

Your face blanches. “My husband is dead,” you gape, holding your daughter closer to your chest. “Who are you?”

He extends his hand to you, a gloved hand. “I am the man who will take you back to the time you married your husband, and allow you to raise your daughter in that timestream.” Motioning to the wall he came from, he adds, “You deserve this, _______. You will re-live your life, but you will not age until you pass to this point. You cannot change the future, as it is locked to place. Peter Quill will always defeat Ronan, rid the universe of Ego. You will be with him once more.”

“This isn’t a trick, is this?” you whisper. “I’ll see Yondu once again?”

The man before you confirms this with a nod. “I am Stephen Strange, and this I vow.”

You struggle to stand, the pain of just giving birth still taking a toll on you. But with a wave of his hand, you feel it dissipate, and your feet carrying you with the vigour of a younger you toward the portal on the wall. But before you step through and take his hand, you pause. “Will this moment…be frozen in time? Will Yondu always die? What will he think about a baby he has not made yet with me?”

The man, Stephen Strange smiles. “This moment is frozen until you return through time, and the future that is nearest to you – that is always up to you to change. And as for the baby…” He nods. “I have manipulated time to allow for you to her naturally there. He will know no different.”

You place your hand in his, your other arm firm around your newborn. “Take me to my husband.”

* * *

 

Yondu Udonta was not a man of pretty words, and loved to get into things bigger than himself, fight fights for treasures across galaxies and dream bigger than his body. Sure, he wasn’t a man of pretty words, but he’d wax poetic about you, to you, with you whenever he could, and he’d say the same about his daughter, the love of the both of your lives. It was like he was three people – the rough ‘n tumble star cowboy, the love-struck tragical blue man, and the father who cherished his daughter, and Peter Quill all the way to the sun and back.

 _“…the future that is nearest to you – that is always up to you to change.”_ The sorcerer Stephen Strange had told you that fateful night. You lived by this, never forgetting for a moment what your quest was. You were a mother, by all definitions of the term. And you would protect what was yours at all costs. You had already lived through this life – when you remembered what trouble would follow a consequence, you would think beyond it, doing your best to prevent the fallout the previous actions had had.

Cassiopeia and Peter grew side by side, the curly-haired half Centaurian and Terran happily exploring the world together. He grew to be the man you remembered he had turned to be, and your daughter loved her father with all her heart, and then some. You were so, so blessed that the man who had accidently appeared the night you brought her to the universe gave you a change to raise her with her father. She knew no different, knew no grief like you did.

But that passed. Because Yondu Udonta did not die on October 19. You changed the future, by simply packing a second spacesuit. Your daughter, a woman grown had her father still, and the second child that grew in your belly, was born the evening he came back from fighting Ego. It was a blessing that coincidences and instances happened in your life. It was a blessing you had found Yondu, had found Peter. Your family was a blessing. And you had to thank a sorcerer and fate’s help from the little cosmos for that.

**Author's Note:**

> If you have any requests, find me on Tumblr at @susiephalange, or [@phalangewrites](https://phalangewrites.tumblr.com/request_conditions) ʕ·ᴥ·ʔ✿


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